Her mother hesitated. ‘I do not know him well enough to say,mon coeur.’
‘Alors?All you care about is his title and his fortune. That is not what makes for a happy marriage, in my opinion.’
Lord Lennox bent a stern look upon her. He cleared his throat and said, raising his bushy eyebrows, ‘I will admit his manner is not the most—er—charming, but he is known to be extremely intelligent. He inherited much debt and a heavily entailed estate and has been very shrewd and diligent, in setting it all to rights.’
Marguerite shrugged. ‘My friends tell me he is a heavy gambler and wins a lot at cards. Also ruthless, and a … a rake. With many beautiful mistresses. Why would he want to get married now?’
Her father said, ‘Marguerite, you listen too much to gossip. He has been amusing himself as a bachelor so far, but I am sure he is conscious of the need to acquire an heir.’
Her mouth twisted in a pout. ‘Oh, Papa, I am not a broodmare. I mean to marry for love.’
‘Very commendable, I am sure.’ Her father smiled.
Lady Lennox sighed. Her husband, seeing this, put a serious expression on his face. ‘But in that case, my sweet, make sure you are careful who you fall in love with—because the consequences could be disastrous.’
* * *
Lord Lennox had been named foreign envoy to Paris in his youth, and there he had stayed, having met, fallen for and married an attractive young Parisian. Lady Lennox, a sweet tempered and cultivated woman, had been disappointed thatshe was able to have but the one child, but her husband was content. He doted on his wife and daughter, and enjoyed listening to them chatter in two languages. However, somewhere inside him lurked nostalgia for his native country. So, after the defeat of Napoleon, he had resigned his post and taken his family back to England. He took a house in London and was happy for them to enjoy the Season but was looking forward to rediscovering his estates in Dorset.
Despite her initial misgivings about entering an alien milieu, Marguerite had quickly made friends. Her cousin Alice, daughter of her father’s sister, was her age, and they immediately found they had much in common. Alice promptly introduced her to all her friends, and this led to many hours of delightful gossiping and giggling.
And then there was Charles, son of her father’s old friend, Mr Barnfield, whom she vaguely remembered as a small, mischievous boy on the one or two occasions they had met years before. He had grown into a handsome man with warm brown eyes and charming manners, only slightly older than her, and there had been, from the start, a delicious, if lighthearted,frissonbetween them. He was already known to Alice, which facilitated matters further. These two young people assured her smooth entry into London society. She found, to her surprise, that the ton considered her to be a diamond of the first water, due to her high spirits and exotic background and upbringing.
‘I envy you, cousin,’ Alice said, as the three of them walked together in the park on a sunny morning. ‘You have only to start speaking French, and men will fall at your feet in droves.’
Charles made a face. ‘I do not want men to fall at her feet in droves. Then she will be married off in a few weeks, and where is the fun in that?’
Alice patted his arm—she was quite taken with him herself. ‘Don’t be so selfish, Charles. We all like to have admirers. I saw you preening when the Williams girl was making sheep’s eyes at you.’
‘Yes, she is quite pretty, isn’t she?’ Charles said, momentarily distracted from his purpose. ‘But still, I would like it to be known that Marguerite is my—our—friend, first and foremost.’
‘Our discovery,’ said Alice.
Marguerite laughed. ‘I am very happy to be your discovery, both of you. I was dreading being a wallflower with nobody asking me to dance.’
‘No fear of that,’ said Charles, shrugging.
Since their families were connected, they were invited to the same dinners, dances, assemblies, balls, and picnics. They enjoyed the company of other young people, trying to avoid the constraints of society rules and the looming prospect of marriage. Marguerite, riding in the park and dancing to her heart’s content, compared this lifestyle to being a duchess, wife of a difficult and entitled man, and laughed out loud.
* * *
Lady Lennox, taking advantage of an afternoon when they were alone embroidering in the drawing room, raised the subject of marriage again with her daughter. ‘Alors, mon coeur, you think you prefer young Barnfield to the duke?’
Charles had by then established himself as Marguerite’s main escort, and their banter had a flirtatious edge to it— something which had not escaped her mother’s notice.
‘Maman, I like Mr Barnfield, but he’s only flirting. He has never declared his feelings or intentions. Which suits me well for the moment—I meant it when I said I have no thoughts of marriage yet.’
Lady Lennox raised an eyebrow. ‘I am happy for you to enjoy yourself,ma chérie, but you must not throw your future away. You will not have endless opportunities.’
Marguerite shrugged. ‘I hope to get more agreeable offers than the duke’s. Would you like me to spend my life with someone so aloof and unlikeable?’
Her mother smiled. ‘Voyons, I think you misjudge him. He is only a lot more serious than Mr Barnfield and his friends, although he is still young. And he is a handsome man, don’t you think?’
‘Handsome? No. He has a hard face, and his hair is always disordered—and his clothes are so plain.’
Her mother considered. ‘I admit he does not smile much, and he is not a follower of fashion, like your friends—he probably dislikes using pomade on his hair. But he has a fine figure—and I do not agree with you about his clothes. They are impeccable.’
‘Yes, and boring. But it is his manner I object to the most.’ Lady Lennox gave up. ‘Well, I will not try to convince you. As your father says, you must choose for yourself. But try to choose well.’
